Christmas Among the Dinner Trays
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: A Working Stiff story - A canteen worker get to see how Napoleon and Illya celebrate Christmas. Part of the 25 Days of Christmas fic.


For Threecee

Christmas can be a brutal time to be away from home. I say that because I am from the Pacific Northwest. How I came to be in New York, well, it's a long and pretty boring story to be honest. Let's just say, never trust a traveling salesman when he offers to show you the world. All I saw were a bunch of seedy motels and hairy eyeballs from the clerks who manned their front desks.

The nice thing about living in New York is that it's easy to reinvent yourself here. I was bussing tables at a local automat and had just picked up a tip. Folks don't tip much at automats and I was singing a little song to myself for picking up nearly a buck, in change, of course.

That's when I saw him, this little old man standing in front of a piece of pie and holding some coins in his hand. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize he was a little short.

The pie was fifty five cents and he only had forty five cents in his palm. I dropped a dime into it and he looked at me in amazement. "What the hell, easy come easy go," I said softly and walked away.

A few minutes later, there was a noise behind me. The shift manager was standing there and he had a really weird look on his face.

"Elaine, there's a guy out front who wants to talk to you. He was just telling me what you did."

"That ain't against the rules, is it, Louie?" This was a rotten job, but I still needed it.

"He says he wants to take you away from all of this."

"Yeah, right, like I ain't heard that before."

Except this guy wasn't pulling my leg. The next thing I knew I was standing in the cafeteria at UNCLE Headquarters. UNCLE is not the sort of business that advertises for helpers. True, I was still clearing tables, but at nearly twice the salary, with benefits, a retirement plan and everything this else. For the first time in my life, I had extra money at the end of the month and I even started a savings account.

Life was good… except around the holidays. The snow would start to trickle down and I'd think of Seattle and feel that twitch in my stomach. To say my departure wasn't explosive would be like saying the pope wasn't Catholic. A lot of things were said that weren't very nice. Hell, they didn't even know if I was alive or dead and that was fine with me. So I had extra money, but nothing really to spend it on.

Christmas was just another day for me. When my supervisor asked if I'd work it, I jumped at the opportunity. It was triple pay and the workload was next to nothing. Best of all, at least I wouldn't be spending the day alone. I'd have all my fellow coworkers… except there wasn't anyone here. Not really.

I was wiping a table top when I saw him come in. It was the Russian, Illya Kuryakin. He had caused quite a stir when he arrived from the Soviet Union. A lot of people avoided him, just because of where he came from. Me, I figured the folks I avoided were the ones who annoyed me. He was polite and always gracious. I had no reason to walk the other way.

He went through the line and piled up his tray like usual. Say what you will, the man could eat and I knew nothing would go to waste. Nothing made me madder faster than folks who would take more than they could eat and waste it. Didn't they know folks were starving? The stuff being offered wasn't much, not even up to its regular standards, but it didn't look like he cared. He looked as if he was just happy to have something to eat.

He moved to a table in the far corner and sat with his back to the wall. I guess even here he didn't feel safe, even though he was the only one in the dining room besides me.

I grabbed a pot of coffee and a cup and walked over to him. "Would you like some coffee?"

A shy smile made my knees wobble. I wondered if he had any idea what he did to a woman with that smile. "That would be lovely, thank you." He pushed his cup towards me and then gestured to a seat. "Would you join me or is that against the rules?" You could tell he was big on rules.

"Well, it probably is, but since we're the only ones here, I don't think it matters much." I sat down and filled his cup, then mine.

"It is very quiet today." He started to eat, slowly and methodically as if he was categorizing the food as he ate it. "I supposed it is because today is a holiday."

"Yup, all the lucky folks who have some place to go." I sipped. "You don't have Christmas in the Soviet Union?"

"All good Soviets are atheists. Rather we celebrate the New Year. It is a time for celebration and reflection. There is laughter and drink and food, enough food for once." His eyes got so sad then and I realized that by his being here he probably was as screwed as I was on the family front. What good upstanding Soviet family wanted a defector… at least, I think he was a defector…

"Me, too, but UNCLE is our family now, I guess." I glanced around at the chintzy decorations and thought about home. Mom would have the tree decorated and a little manger off to one side. One of the sheep had a bad leg because I could never keep my hands off it and broke it one year. Mom just glued it back on. She told me Jesus knew it was an accident. There would be an Advent calendar with the door held on with Scotch tape, and the old records, scratched and prone to skipping, would be playing. I felt a great ball of sadness roll up my throat. I took a gulp of coffee and my eyes teared up as it seared its way down to my stomach. Still, it was better than crying.

I heard the Canteen doors open and Sex on a Plate, aka Napoleon Solo, walked in. He stood there for a minute and looked around until he spotted us. He sort of waved and walked our way. He had been partnered with Mr. Kuryakin for about half a year now. No one else could please Mr. Solo, but he and Mr. Kuryakin had connected right away.

"Illya! And who is your charming companion?" He grinned and all I can say is thank God I was sitting down…

"Napoleon, this is Elaine Conners. Elaine, Napoleon Solo."

"Charmed, I'm sure." Napoleon looked around at the empty tables. "The place is really hopping today."

"No, it is quite empty… oh, I understand." It took him a couple of seconds to do the translation, I guess. "We were having some coffee and celebrating our aloneness. Is there trouble?" He became very serious and that would be my exit cue. I excused myself and went back to the counter.

Usually, it was too noisy in the Canteen to hear much, but today was different.

"You don't have to be alone, Illya. That's why I was looking for you. My Aunt Amy puts out an incredible spread and she wants to meet you."

"I'm on duty, Napoleon."

"I already talked to Waverly. As long as you keep your communicator on you, he's fine with you leaving. It's not likely that THRUSH will try anything. They usually behave themselves today."

"I wouldn't want to be a bother."

Mr. Solo reached out and placed a hand on Mr. Kuryakin's arm. "You wouldn't be. Please, Illya? I could do with some male company and it would be great to have someone to help with the dishes."

"This is a time for family." You could tell he was weakening, though.

"You _are_ family. When are you going to get that through that Russian skull of yours? Now come on!"

Illya looked down at his tray of food and Mr. Solo shook his head. He picked it up and carried it to me. "Elaine, would you be so kind as to place this in the refrigerator, so he can eat it tomorrow?" He winked at me and I nodded.

"Not a problem!"

Mr. Kuryakin stood and Mr. Solo returned to his side, wrapping an arm about his partner's neck. "Wait until you try her goose. I've seen your knife skills and I know you'll do a better job of carving than I usually do…"

The door cut him off and I was alone again, but for the first time I truly felt alone here.

Margie showed up and told me to take off early, so I walked slowly through the nearly deserted streets, being careful not to get my new boots too dirty.

My apartment was cool, but I didn't care. I pulled on a cardigan and stared out my window at the building next door. I kept thinking about the unfairness of it all. Here I had a perfectly good family and because of pride I ignored them while Mr. Kuryakin was desperate to be with his and couldn't. It just didn't seem right.

Suddenly there was a phone in my hand and I was dialing a number. A voice answered and I gulped down a huge lump in my throat. "Mamma?"

Well, I won't go into all the details, but rest assured, next year they can offer the Christmas tour to someone else. Mr. Kuryakin found his own family here and I realized that home is where the heart is and my heart is back in Seattle, listening to scratchy records, laughing at my dad's lame jokes and eating dried out turkey. And it would never be so sweet.


End file.
